


Pride vs. Humility

by greenmtwoman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmtwoman/pseuds/greenmtwoman
Summary: Jaime has a Porsche.  Brienne has a Prius.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	Pride vs. Humility

**Author's Note:**

> For JB Week 2020 - my first modern AU. Thanks to the lovely ladies at JBO who put together this challenge, and who welcomed me!

She caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of her eye before the air bag exploded. It was the loudest sound she’d ever heard. When her ears stopped ringing, she found that the driver’s door of her Prius was hopelessly jammed, but she managed to pull herself through the open sunroof. Sometimes her freakish height was an advantage.

The other driver was climbing out of a crumpled crimson Porsche, glaring at her. “What the fuck?”

“Are you all right?”

He ignored her. “Look at my car! What a mess. What were you doing?”

She took a deep breath, trying to slow her pounding heart. “I was going through a green light. What were you doing? Have you hit your head?” Luckily her phone was in her pocket rather than in her bag; she would need to report the accident.

“I don’t have time for this. Where’s my phone?” One sleeve of his sweater was ripped. _Is that cashmere? Of course it is_. His phone obliged him by signaling an incoming text from inside his mangled car. “Shit! I can’t reach it. Give me yours.”

“No! We need to exchange identification and insurance information.” She narrowed her eyes. “You ran that red light. Were you texting?”

He actually made a grab for her phone and she backed up, furious. She didn’t know if he was insane or just an unbelievable jerk, but she summoned the firm and authoritative tone she took with her most hostile clients. “You need to calm down right now. There are procedures to follow.”

They stared at each other. He was fair-haired, green-eyed and would have been startlingly handsome if not for his unpleasant expression. She was relieved to see flashing lights rounding the corner.

The officer – his badge identified him as J. Bywater of the City Watch – checked that neither of them were injured. She gave him her name, Brienne Tarth, her home address, work address at the public defender’s office and other contact details. To his credit, he didn’t react when he heard where she worked. To many of the City Watch, the p.d.’s office was the enemy – and vice-versa. She managed to extract her license, registration and insurance card by leaning gingerly through the shattered window of her car.

The other man – _the asshole_ – she silently named him, leaned against the remains of his Porsche with his arms folded and a sulky expression. When Officer Bywater asked for his information, he leaned forward and said something she couldn’t hear. The officer’s expression was stony. He gave a short, sharp shake of his head and said flatly, “That’s not relevant. Your information, please. Now. Sir.”

The handsome man snorted and pulled out a slim wallet, handing over an engraved card.

“License? Insurance?”

“Seven hells, I don’t know!”

“Perhaps you could look? Sir. The lady’s papers are in order.”

The passenger’s side door of the Porsche still opened, but a rummage through the glove compartment produced nothing but a sheaf of unpaid parking tickets.

“You do have a current license, sir?” Each time Bywater said “sir” his tone grew less respectful.

“Of course I do!”

The policeman was breathing heavily through his nose. “Wait here. I’m going to run you through the computer.”

“Why? Call my office tomorrow and they’ll straighten it out.”

“Wait. Here. Sir.” Brienne’s mood was shifting from angry to entertained as Officer Bywater turned his back and strode heavily to his cruiser.

The other driver’s phone continued to signal a stream of incoming texts. He ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I really need to use your phone. Pretty please? With whipped cream on top?”

“Oh, all right.” There was really no reason to refuse now that the authorities were on the scene and obviously unimpressed by him. She unlocked it and handed it over.

He turned away and began muttering. “…can’t help… …sorry… … stupid accident… …fast as I can… sorry, Cersei… …some ugly, giant woman in a godsdamn Prius… sorry…”

She glared at him, regretting letting him have her phone. He noticed and shrugged, unrepentant. He tossed it back to her, and luckily she managed to catch it before it hit the pavement. “Careful! You could at least say ‘thank you.’”

“Sir.” Officer Bywater was back. “I’m going to have to issue multiple citations. According to our records, your car is uninsured and your license and registration are both expired.”

“My staff is supposed to handle all that. Isn’t there a way to settle this between us without a lot of fuss? I really am in a hurry, and I’d appreciate it.” His smile was charming, proud, and insinuating.

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, sir. Would you like to come down to the station with me?” Two fingers tapped on the handcuffs at his belt.

“No.” Now he looked dejected. “My sister’s expecting me. Do whatever you have to do and I’ll fix it later.”

It seemed to Brienne that Officer Bywater took a deliberately long time to fill out the necessary paperwork while the Porsche driver paced and clenched his admirable jaw. They arranged for towing, him to the dealership, her to the local garage. She let him use her phone again to call to be picked up, telling herself not to be petty. She scribbled her insurance information on the back of one of her business cards. “In case you need to reach me.”

He produced one of the same cards he had handed to Bywater and glanced at hers. “Public defender? Very noble. Overworked and underpaid, but it’s a good spot for those in the bottom half of the graduating class, if you can stand working for that prig Ned Stark.”

He was quite possibly the most obnoxious man she’d ever met. She studied his card in turn. Heavyweight paper, engraved. Jaime Lannister, Partner, Lannister & Baratheon, One Maegor’s Tower, King’s Landing. The ampersand was cleverly composed of an intertwined lion and stag, the firm’s logo. “Better than a partnership based on being born with the right name.”

“Maybe It didn't impress you or Bywater, but my father always says that lions don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.”

Her temper finally snapped. “I’m not a sheep, and I don’t see a lion. I see an arrogant asshole.” _Although he’s right about one thing – Ned is kind of a prig._

“I was talking about the cop, not you.”

“Makes no difference – I was still talking about you.”

He looked away. She was glad to have discomfited him. Lannister & Baratheon was the most prestigious law firm in King’s Landing, handling mergers and acquisitions, representing blue-chip corporations and investment banks. They liked to tout their commitment to pro bono work as well, but Brienne had seen little evidence of it.

“Listen…” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not usually quite such a jerk. I’m sorry. Tarth… wait a minute. Did you interview last year…? You turned us down!”

“I did,” she said without elaborating. His attitude made her unwilling to say more, though she wanted to throw her law review editorship in his smug face. She had her own kind of pride. The money at L&B, even for an associate, was stunningly good, but the work had looked stunningly boring. Also, the expected work wardrobe would have been stunningly uncomfortable. Silk dresses? Pantyhose? Heels?

Jaime Lannister was studying the cars again. “I don’t know if they qualify as totaled, or if they can be repaired.” He hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but you were right. I was texting with my sister. She’s upset. She’s married to Robert Baratheon, and it’s a mess.”

“You should have pulled over to answer her.”

“I was in a hurry. You don’t know Cersei.”

“I’m glad I don’t. Oh well… no-fault insurance, no witnesses to the accident… You got lucky, Mr. Lannister.”

He gave her a smile which was both charming and bitter.

“Oh yeah, I’m a lucky guy all around.”

******************************

**Five months later**

The spectacular implosion of Lannister & Baratheon was the talk of the legal world for months. Rival firms were full of gossip laced with schadenfreude from the mailrooms to the managing partners’ offices. Not only had L&B been using client’s escrow funds for their own expenses and billing for more hours than had been worked, there was talk of connections with underworld figures in Tyrosh, facilitation of tax fraud and money laundering… the list went on. Most interesting, even to non-legal types, one senior partner, Petyr Baelish, was accused of running a stable of high-end call girls who provided information on government officials.

Tywin Lannister abruptly retired on grounds of Ill-health. Indictments were said to be in the offing. Robert Baratheon fled to Volantis with his socialite wife and their children and was fighting extradition. Another partner, Janos Slynt, was given immunity in return for damning evidence. Young lawyers unhappily fled to other firms, if they were able to find jobs at all.

Brienne wondered what had happened to obnoxious Jaime Lannister and his crimson Porsche. Insurance had repaired her Prius and she’d tried to put the unpleasant incident out of her mind, except for being even more careful than usual when driving. She was preparing a defense for the rent-withholding tenants of a rat-infested building, who were facing eviction. She took a moment to consider whether the landlord might be part of a consortium belonging to a holding company which was a subsidiary of a corporation funded by an investment bank represented by L&B.

Ned Stark rapped on the wall of her cubicle. She knew that he had spent the day interviewing prospective new hires; they had been given the funds for two more lawyers. “Brienne, can you spare a few minutes to meet with someone? He says he knows you. His credentials are impeccable, but I have doubts about his character. In this office…”

“Character counts as much as credentials. I know, Ned.” He told them so at least once a week. Also that they must always do their work with honor and honesty. _I agree, of course I do… but Ned is a bit of a prig._ “Who am I meeting?”

“Jaime Lannister.”

“Lannister? He claims he knows me? I guess he does, if by ‘knows me’ he means that he crashed his car into mine. It’s not what I’d call a friendship.”

“I’ll tell him you’re busy.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m almost done with this.” _I’m curious, that’s what I am_.

******************************

Her cubicle wasn’t meant to fit two people whose combined height was well over twelve feet. There were only a couple of inches between their knees as he folded himself into her guest chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Applying for a job. Obviously.”

“You?”

“Did you expect me to slink off to Dorne and live on my trust fund?”

_That’s exactly what I expected._ “But why here? It’s not your kind of law.”

“What’s my kind of law? I know everything about how the corporate and financial worlds operate, and don’t tell me that doesn’t impact your clients. I’m also one hell of a litigator.”

“Not to mention your great modesty. Ned won’t be impressed by Lannister arrogance.” _Neither am I._

“Maybe I’d like to be of some real use.”

“Is this some kind of penance?”

He leaned forward. “Believe it or not – I didn’t know.”

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Really?”

“I did my work. I worried about my sister. I avoided my father as much as I could. Tywin Lannister isn’t the confiding sort. Then when all this blew up, he asked me to destroy evidence. Said I owed it to the family name. I refused. He said that in that case, I was no longer his son. He called security and had me thrown out of the office. We haven’t spoken since.”

_Do I believe him? Maybe. He’s here; it’s hard to see why unless he’s serious. On the other hand, why would anyone with his name and looks be serious about anything?_ “Being humiliated must have been an interesting experience for you.”

“It was liberating. My sister agreed with my father and took herself and her opinion and her oaf of a husband to Volantis. My brother is the only one in the family who’s still talking to me, and none of them are talking to him, either.”

“If you expect me to feel sorry for you, it’s not working. We deal with people who have real problems, who are at risk of losing their homes, their freedom, maybe even their lives. You’re…”

“An arrogant asshole. So you told me at our first meeting. Well I’m still an asshole, but I’m working on the arrogance.”

She regarded his lopsided – but charming - smile with distrust. “There’s a difference between humiliation and humility. A big difference.”

“I’m asking for a chance. Is that humble enough?”

“The chance to sit in a cubicle, eat lunch out of a plastic container and work on the problems of people with no money and no influence. I won’t mention the pay, but it’s less – a lot less – a year than the price of that Porsche. Which I would advise you not to park in this neighborhood.”

“Thanks for the tip. Do I get my chance?”

“That’s up to Ned.”

“He said maybe – if you approved of me.”

“I don’t approve of you.”

“That’s it?” His eyes narrowed. "That’s all you have to say after we had such a fascinating introduction?”

“I don’t have to approve of you to give you a chance. You can start next week. You’ll have plenty to do. After six weeks, we’ll see.”

“Thank you, I think. I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Tarth.” He stood.

She disliked being looked down on, but when she stood they were almost too close to each other. She was glad that she was taller. “Check in with Ned before you leave. Also, this is a first-name kind of office. It’s Brienne, Mr. Lannister.”

“Jaime.”

“Fair enough.” She hesitated. “What happened to the Porsche?”

“Sold it.”

“What are you driving now?”

“You’ll find out next week. Goodbye… Brienne.”

She looked thoughtfully at his retreating back. The air around her still vibrated with his presence. _He won’t be easy to work with, but he's not boring._ She shook her head and turned back to the case on her desk. _Asshole._ She tapped her pencil. _Jaime._

**Author's Note:**

> My husband assures me that the background legal stuff isn't too improbable. Comments are received with more humility than Jaime has!


End file.
